bachelors no more
by sherllllllock
Summary: Pongo did think he was a rather handsome human in his own way. He could see no reason as to why Sherlock didn't deserve an attractive mate. At least, Pongo was determined to do his best. Of course, dogs have a pretty poor judgement on human beauty. But he had a rough idea of what to look for. /101 DALMATIANS AU/


**bachelors no more**

Their story began in London, in a little bachelor flat just on Baker Street, shared by the man and his companion. It was a beautiful spring day, a tedious time for bachelors. As far as Pongo could see, the old notion that a bachelor's life was all glamorous and carefree was all nonsense, it was, well, utterly _dull_.

The companion was lying on the green window seat, his head resting on the open windowsill. Pongo watched the people on the street before lifting his droopy head to scratch his ear with his hind leg. He stretched his paws out in front of him and arched his back, a yawn escaping his mouth.

His eyes flicked around the flat – stacks of paper on every surface available, several ash trays filled to the brim with cigarette butts, clothes and books tossed around the place, last night's Chinese take-away resting atop the fireplace, not even to mention the kitchen and the _experiments in the refrigerator_ – it was a complete mess.

It was plain to see that his friend needed someone, especially now that John had moved out, but if it were left up to Sherlock Holmes, they'd be bachelors forever. He was married to his work, solving cases for Scotland Yard, and for clients that visit him personally, with issues such as cheating husbands and wives of all the things. It's funny because love and relationships are topics Sherlock knows absolutely nothing about.

He's intelligent enough as humans go. Well, more than intelligent really, a proper genius. He can find out everything he needs to know about a person just by flicking his eyes over them. And Pongo did think he was a rather handsome human in his own way. He could see no reason as to why Sherlock didn't deserve an attractive mate. At least, Pongo was determined to do his best. Of course, dogs have a pretty poor judgement on human beauty. But he had a rough idea of what to look for.

Sherlock sat in his chair, his laptop balancing on one knee whilst his fingers absentmindedly plucked at the strings of his violin. A frown graced his lips as he searched for the mobile phone under the cushion behind him. He swiftly typed a quick text message to Lestrade, stating that the murderer of a twenty-five-year-old woman was in fact her boyfriend's ex-wife. The murderer just couldn't handle the fact that her ex-husband had replaced her with a woman half his age. Typical.

He sighed; lifting his feet up off the coffee table, he jumped up to pour himself another cup of tea. He had solved all the cases the Detective Inspector had emailed him, classing them as mainly 2's and 3's. He definitely needed something more _stimulating_ to pass his time.

"Well, Pongo, old boy, what do you say we go on a little walk?" Sherlock downed the rest of his tea and watched the dog bound up with the stairs to come back with a leash hanging from his mouth. Sherlock chuckled as he donned his Belstaff coat and deerstalker, the Dalmatian's excited barks filling the air.

They had made their thirty-minute trek to Hyde Park, albeit their journey time was quicker than usual – Pongo had been literally tugging on his leash, dragging Sherlock in the process (he didn't even get the chance to light up a cigarette!). He hadn't a clue what had gotten into the hysterical dog.

Walking along the Serpentine Lake, Pongo had stopped in his tracks. He recognised the figure sitting at the bench. It was John's mate; _oh what was she called, ah yes! Mary Watson. _But she wasn't alone. His eyes panned down to the figure resting by her feet. _Well now, that's a bit more like it! The most beautiful creature on four legs! Oh now, if only the girl… _

He pulled Sherlock (who was fiddling with his lighter, trying to alight the cigarette that was hanging from his lips) forward. He scanned the woman who was talking to Mary. She was wearing a tight knitted jumper, with trousers. Her hair was tied up into a loose bun and her fingers fidgeted with the leash in her hands. _Well! She's very lovely too. _It was almost too good to be true. _I'd never find another pair like that, not if I looked for a hundred years. _

It was the perfect situation if he had planned it right. But he couldn't depend on Sherlock. He knew what he would do. He'd settle down on the bench and puff his cigarette and that would be it.

Nope, it was all up to Pongo.

He had no particular plan, just anything to attract attention. You know, stir things up a bit. Maybe he could try and prize the deerstalker off his head, forcing the man to chase him around. That could possibly alert the girls of his presence.

He straightened his back – eyes closed, arched tail, snout in the air – he had honest to god, _strut _past the ladies, as if he was walking on a catwalk – or, in his case, a _dogwalk_.

Sherlock unsurprisingly did not notice the familiar face he had just walked past, but luckily for him, Mary did.

"Sherlock!" Mary pulled at his elbow, forcing him to spin around. "Oh, I've missed you." She threw her arms around the man's neck, before pressing a quick kiss against his cheek.

"Mary," his hands were still stuffed inside his coat pockets. "How was the honeymoon?"

"It was amazing, thanks! John's glad to be back home though. He's been itching to get back to solving cases with you."

"Yes, well," His eyes flicked over to the woman seated at the bench, _how interesting. _"I'm glad he's back, too."

"Oh, how rude of me! Sherlock, meet Molly Hooper."

Molly stood abruptly. He was slightly odd looking, _striking, _yes that was the word she was looking for. Yet he was absolutely gorgeous. Her throat closed up for a moment, unable to speak a word, her entire body shivered as he took her hand into his for a firm handshake.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." A smirk graced his lips. A bloody sexy man was smirking at her and she was stood in front of him, mouth open like a total Wally. There was complete silence between the pair before she found the courage to speak up.

"I see you l-l-like Dalmatians."

"Pongo was a gift," Sherlock raised a brow, turning to face the other woman. "From John. When he was dating Mary."

Mary looked positively amused and shot Molly a knowing look, "He was only looking out for you, didn't want you to get too lonely without him living in 221B anymore."

Sherlock snorted, "Pongo's a better flatmate. Doesn't complain when I play my violin."

Pongo barked at that, his head tilted to the side.

"Seems like he thinks differently," Mary giggled, looping her arm through Molly's. "We must be off now, we have a film to watch in about 20 minutes."

Just as they were about to walk away, Molly whispered, "Perdita was a gift, too."

"From your father, just before he passed away. Enjoy your film."

"How d-did you–" Molly stuttered, but he was already gone, Dalmatian in tow.

She turned to Mary, mouth agape. Mary shrugged in return, looking thoughtful.

Molly and Perdita both hoped to see the mysterious pair again.

**A/N:**** Thanks for reading! Tell me your thoughts in the reviews. Do you want me to carry on? Hope my writing didn't suck too much. **


End file.
